A Diamond in the Rough
by the-kings-tail-fin
Summary: In the early 70s, Strip and some of his racing buddies decide to go watch a nearby demolition derby for kicks. He wasn't planning on coming out of that trip with a date.


"No, trust me, guys, you'll get a kick out of it." the Gran Torino persuaded his friends. "Besides, we've already come this far."

"I've never been on a road this dilapidated, Tori." the Chevelle said, dodging a pothole in the middle of the lane. "This better be worth it, or you're gonna get it. Strip, you keepin' up?"

"Right behind you, Sammy." he answered, accidentally hitting the same pothole his friend just missed. "Ow."

They were in the middle of nowhere on a well-worn two-lane highway, a good twenty miles from the next town over. Having arrived in the bigger town a few days early to spend practice time on the track for the race that coming weekend, they became bored one afternoon and discovered that the neighboring town was hosting a demolition derby that night. Tori insisted it would be a good time.

"Here we go. Finally." Tori veered off the highway onto a dirt road. They could see stadium lights in the next field over, with stands on either side of what appeared to be a track, fenced in by hay bales.

They all paid the entrance fee and parked at the very top of the stands for a better view. The townsfolk were pouring in as well, bringing their excitement with them.

"So remind me what the point of this is, again?" Sammy asked Tori, watching a few intoxicated old pickup trucks nearly get into a brawl, betting over who would win.

"Okay, so before it starts, they're gonna soak this here field until it turns to mud, and they're gonna let the participants in. They're all gonna line up around the perimeter, facin' each other. They'll wait for the gun to go off, and then the only goal is to be the last car standing. Very few rules." Tori explained.

"So they're gonna mutilate each other in a field of mud." Strip interpreted. "Because they can."

"Exactly." Tori confirmed.

The organizers got the ball rolling fairly quickly. Right as soon as the sun touched the horizon, the coordinator let twenty competitors into the field, introducing them as they entered. Then he raised a pistol, fired, and all hell broke loose.

It was fantastic. Brutal, but fantastic. And it wasn't just a bunch of old guys ramming into each other like the racers had anticipated. There were cars of all makes and models in there, and at least three women.

An old ambulance flipped a DeSoto completely upside down within the first thirty seconds. A 50′s Dodge Dart actually pushed an older Oldsmobile completely through the hay bale barricade. Twenty minutes into it, they had to stop the derby to remove all the immobilized vehicles in order to make room for the remaining ones. There were only eight cars left.

Strip watched them closely. He was always analyzing other sports, looking for things that could possibly translate into something helpful in racing. But he was having trouble concentrating on the methodologies being employed there, first and foremost because there didn't seem to be any. Secondly, he kept finding himself watching a younger station wagon rip across the field like it was nothing.

She was very good. There were a few instances where the older and bigger cars would try to team up against her, but she'd always find a way to use their momentum against them. Once, she waited until they were almost on top of her, and then pulled out of the way quickly so they'd crash into each other instead. Another time, she took advantage of the others duking it out among themselves by putting herself in reverse, and backing into them with as much speed as she could muster, breaking one's rear axle and flipping the other on his side.

At the end of the derby, she was one of two left standing. The other car was an older Buick, much bigger and heavier than she was. They faced each other from across the torn up field. The Buick charged at her, and she in turn did the same, aiming straight for him.

Strip was starting to feel something he'd never felt before as he watched her. She had a brilliant silver paint job, was long and sleek, and was the least damaged of any of the competitors. She was strong and fearless. Somehow, even completely caked in mud, he found her to be the most intriguing thing he'd ever seen. The butterflies in his carburetor were starting to flutter involuntarily.

It soon became clear they were playing chicken with each other. The Buick had quite a bit of advantage over her, but she wasn't going to back out. The older car had a twisted frame that made it nearly impossible to drive in a straight line. He had to keep correcting himself. His front end was also slightly angled upwards, creating a sizable gap between his bumper and the ground.

A split moment before they collided head on, the station wagon lowered herself to the ground and angled herself so that the Buick would hit her along her side, and not straight on. She caught the underside of his front bumper with her front left fender, which guided the rest of his body upwards and sideways, like a one-sided ramp. He toppled over onto his side and the crowd went bonkers. But she wasn't done. For a sure finish, she spun around, drove in a circle around him just to taunt him, and then proceeded to ram into his undercarriage to further flip him upside down. That's when the judges called it. She'd won. A water tanker came and dumped a bunch of water on her to both celebrate and clean her up, and the coordinators handed her a decent check for her winnings.

As the crowd dispersed, the racers came down from the stands and started to head back towards the road.

"Dude, I will never doubt you again." Sammy told Tori. "We've been missing out."

"Good times all around, my friend." Tori was still riding on the excitement, all smiles. "Strip? You're being unusually quiet. What'd you think?"

"Hmm?" Strip was off in his own world. "Oh, it was great. Had a blast."

He'd caught a glimpse of silver off in the distance, around the other side of the makeshift stadium. He wasn't paying attention, and almost veered out of his lane in the direction he was looking.

"Boy, somethin's up with you." Sammy noticed Strip's odd behavior. "Is there somethin' you wanna tell us?"

"Uh…" Strip slowed down a little. "You guys go on without me. I'll catch up later."

"What? Where are you going?" Tori yelled at him as he turned off the road and back towards the arena.

 _What on earth am I doing?_ he asked himself. _What am I even gonna say? I don't know her at all._

She saw the bright blue car coming from a ways away. _Wait, was that the new racer for Dinoco?_ _In the_ Piston Cup _series_? What was someone like him doing out here at a place like this? She tried to calm herself. She didn't want to appear excited or nervous.

"Hey." Strip called to her, getting her attention as he drew near. "I just wanted to say that was pretty impressive, what you did out there - I've never seen anything like it."

"Oh, thanks." she smiled, flustered. "Gotta make a livin' in this town somehow."

"I guess I should introduce myself." Strip remembered his manners. "My name's Strip."

 _Oh, I know._ she thought, but played it off, not wanting to come off as weird. "I'm Lynda - spelled with a Y, not an I."

"Lynda, huh?" Strip smiled at her. He really liked the name. "So, tell me, why's someone like you out here running derbies?"

"It's just something I found I was good at." she shrugged it off. "My parents needed the money, so I thought I'd try and compete, hopefully get a little somethin' to help 'em out."

"You seem like a bit of a local legend." Strip had seen several spectators come up to her and congratulate her before he'd approached her. "You been doing this for a while?"

"A couple years, ever since I got out of school." she explained. "It's really the only thing left in this town, unless you're into farming or being a waitress."

"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you look fantastic for havin' been doin' this as long as you have." he complimented her.

"Oh, now." she was embarrassed, but flattered. "Thanks. I try to play it smart, not hard. But enough about me. What in the blazes is a racer like you doin' out here in the boonies?"

"Eh, a couple buddies and me were in the next town over, gettin' ready for the race this weekend. We got bored and found out about this. Thought we'd come and watch." he told her.

"Oh right, there _is_ a race this weekend. That's neat." she, of course, had known for weeks they were coming by.

"Yeah, and it's technically my home track, as well." he continued. "I grew up only about 50 miles north of here."

"You're kidding." that was one fact she didn't know. "That's crazy! Well, I wish you the best of luck! Hopefully, you'll smoke 'em."

"That's the plan." Strip said with a smile. "You ever been to a race before?"

Lynda laughed a little. "If it ain't been on these grounds right here, I ain't seen it. We don't really get out a whole lot."

"Well, how'd you like to change that?" he asked. "I can hook you up with some tickets if you're interested. You wouldn't have to worry about payin' for a thing."

Lynda was speechless. Was this really happening? Was he just genuinely being nice? Or was he flirting with her? Or both? He looked like a showroom model, and she was just some beat up country girl covered in dirt. It couldn't be real.

"Really?" she asked softly. It'd always been one of her goals, to save up enough money to go see a real race one day. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course I would." he said. He noticed that the place had finally cleared out except for the clean up crews. "And I tell you what. I'll do you one better. If you don't have any plans for the rest of the night, why don't you let me take you out for a drink?"

Lynda smiled, and thanked him with the look in her eyes. "I think I'd like that."

They drove into town and went into the lone bar on Main Street. It was nearly eleven when they got there, and the place wasn't overly crowded. They secured themselves a corner booth and talked until the place closed early that morning. She found him to be unlike a lot of the racers she knew from television. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say, and the stories she told. He didn't talk about himself unless prompted, and when he did, she felt like she wasn't even talking to a celebrity. More like a friend. He felt much the same way. She didn't treat him like an idol. She was very genuine and everything she said was full of kind heart. They learned a lot about each other in a very short amount of time.

It was three thirty, and they found themselves driving slowly down the street.

"You mind if I escort you home? It's late. I wanna make sure you make it alright." Strip offered, wanting to spend more time with her.

"Please?" she asked.

There weren't any other cars on the streets, so they drove side by side out of town a little ways to her house. On the street out front, they stopped and hesitated.

"Thank you." Lynda eventually said in a sincere tone. "For everything. I really had a great time tonight."

"I wouldn't have wanted it any other way." Strip responded, with a gentle smile. "I hope we can do this again. Soon."

"Of course! I'd love to." she then hesitated again, unsure how to say goodbye.

"So I'll see you this weekend?" he asked, backing up a few inches to give her more room.

"You can count on it." she smiled. Quickly, she came up to him and gave him a quick little kiss on his front right fender, winked, and drove up the driveway to her house, leaving him frozen in his tracks for a moment.

He drove all the way back to the race track in the next town with a huge, stupid smile on his face. He knew the boys were going to ride him on this, but he didn't care. He had a date.


End file.
